


Turning Point

by immertreu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4587147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immertreu/pseuds/immertreu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between "A New Dawn" (the novel) and the "Rebels" pilot: Kanan and Hera get into trouble with the Imperials. Kanan has to make a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Point

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by IcyWaters. Thank you!

  
**Turning Point**

by immertreu  
August 4, 2015

Hera Syndulla knew she was in trouble. Big trouble!

She ducked as blaster bolts sizzled her way, trying to hide behind a shipping crate but only succeeding in ripping her flight suit on its sharp corners. _Blast it!_ she cursed inwardly, and fired back at her pursuers. Why couldn't they just give up? 

At least the Imperials were lousy shots. 

The green-skinned Twi'lek squeezed off two more energy bursts in the general direction of her attackers and dove for another container that offered slightly more protection from the enemy's fire.

Where the heck was Kanan?

Her human not-quite-Jedi companion of eighteen months had taken refuge in the opposite corner of the warehouse when the Imperial stormtroopers appeared, and he'd been keeping the soldiers at bay with well-placed blaster fire – Hera suspected the Force had a hand in that – but she hadn't seen him for at least two minutes. She silently worried and risked a glance. Yup, he was still firing but seemed to be pinned down as well, hiding behind a shipping crate.

Well, if the gundark didn't come to the Wookie... Groaning at herself for mixing up bad metaphors, Hera dove out from behind her cover and rolled over the duracrete floor, presenting as small a target as possible while traveling closer to Kanan. They needed to get out of here. Fast!

Just then, her friend's head peaked over the container he was hiding behind, eyes wide in fear – for her. “Hera, no!” he yelled, but then he had to duck as a shot came too close to taking his head off.

Hera slammed into unyielding metal – the side of yet one more tank littering the wide open space. What had the Imps been trying to do here anyway? Build a labyrinth? 

Gasping, trying to get breath back into her abused lungs, she crawled around a corner and found herself staring into a dozen unwavering blaster barrels aimed at her. _Uh-oh!_

She was still debating whether to fight or simply surrender when a blurred form struck her ambushers from behind. Not believing her eyes, Hera stared as Kanan flew over the shipping containers spread out across the floor in one Force-enhanced jump. Her panicked shout of “No!”, mirroring her friend's outburst from a few seconds ago, came too late. Because even if he hadn't given his Jedi heritage away by crossing the hangar in one giant leap, the glowing blue blade in his hands would have alerted even the dumbest Imperial to his status as an enemy of the state. 

Admiration and fear for Kanan warred in her mind as he took on the twelve troopers threatening her. 

_So, the idiot does have a lightsaber after all,_ one part of her brain supplied, while the other half spurred her into action. Diving away while firing, Hera took out two of the Imperials that were distracted by her friend's heroics, and slipped behind a huge box of spare hyperdrive parts. 

Risking a glance behind, she saw Kanan fighting as he'd never done before. 

The former Jedi seemed to be everywhere at once, deflecting laser fire with his lightsaber held in a one-handed grip, shooting at the Imps with his blaster held in the other hand. Jumping, twisting, Force-pushing soldiers away when they came too close for comfort or approached her position. 

Hera was overwhelmed by sudden pride – and terror. The Empire now knew Kanan's secret!

Catching her eye, her partner yelled, “Run!”

Not needing to be told twice, she wounded two more of the Empire's soldiers that had tried to box her in, picked herself up from the floor, and started running towards the exit and the _Ghost_.

Her reliable starship was parked just outside because the outpost had been deserted until five minutes ago. Or so they'd thought. 

No blaster fire came after Hera, and she strongly suspected that it was Kanan's doing. Not stopping to check, she ran up the ramp into her ship and climbed up into the cockpit as fast as she could. Close to panic, she jump-started the _Ghost_ , the ramp still half extended, and yelled into the comm: “Kanan, where are you?”

There was only static on the line. 

“Kanan?!” she called again, toggling switches and debating whether to go back for him, when his voice came over the on-board system, accompanied by the groan of the ramp closing up: “I'm in. Go, go, go!”

Hera pulled on the stick. The _Ghost_ shot up into the sky as if fired from a slingshot. No TIE fighters followed their panicked flight from Dantooine. Luckily, the Imperial presence there had been relatively small.

Still, Hera only dared to breathe again when they had passed out of the planet's gravity well and were running straight for hyperspace. She didn't care where they were going. The only thing that mattered was getting away from this place as fast as possible. She'd heard the Transitory Mists were really great this time of year...

Kanan reached the cockpit when the stars outside the viewport elongated to brilliant streaks of light. He was breathing hard, the grip on his unlit lightsaber was white-knuckled, and tension clear in every line of his body. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking Hera up and down as if to make sure she really was still in one piece.

Hera let go of the controls, pushed the final button to engage the autopilot, and stood to face him where he was leaning against the cockpit door. “Am I okay?” she almost shouted. “You...you...stupid, harebrained, reckless...Jedi!” she finally managed, grabbing at the backrest of her pilot chair for inner balance. 

Kanan smirked his most infuriating grin. “I think that statement was quite redundant, wasn't it?”

Hera actually growled, and Kanan dropped the act, sagging against the wall and clipping his lightsaber – his lightsaber! Where had he hidden his weapon until now? – to his utility belt. 

He sighed. “I'm sorry, Hera. It was the only way.”

She deflated, knowing it to be true. If he hadn't acted the way he did, they would both be dead by now. Or worse, captured by the Empire. She stepped closer to him and put a hand on his arm, trying to convey comfort and gratefulness with a gesture Kanan wouldn't have allowed only a few months ago. 

“I know,” she admitted, meeting his tired gaze. “Thank you.” 

He dipped his head and shrugged self-consciously, still not used to allowing himself to feel, to actually express his caring, after so many years of pretending to be someone he wasn't. 

Reading the signs, Hera stepped back and smiled at the former drifter, explosives hauler, gambler, drunkard – and current reluctant Jedi. “I'm just glad we made it,” she said, returning back to business as usual for Kanan's sake. “I hope our contact made it out okay.”

Her partner snorted. “Oh, he did. I saw him slip out the back door before the Imps opened fire.”

“Good. That means we can come back and talk to him again.” Hera returned to her seat and started pulling up star charts. They needed a place to lay low for a while.

Kanan pushed off the durasteel door and joined her up front. He dropped into his customary seat at the co-pilot's station and blew out a heavy breath. “Yeah, you're right. Just...” 

He hesitated, and Hera glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Just let's take it slow, okay? I don't want to see this planet again for quite a long while.”

Kanan was good at hiding his emotions, but Hera was better at reading him. He was afraid. 

“Sure,” she readily agreed. “No reason to make them hunt you even more after this stunt you pulled.” Not giving Kanan a chance to reply with his customary snark, she added, “And speaking of stunts... Where the kriff did you hide that lightsaber of yours? It wasn't on you when we left the ship.”

“Hera,” he tried to deflect, but she was having none of it.

“Don't you 'Hera' me, Kanan Jarrus!” she said, and he actually winced at her tone. “I think I have a right to know.”

Silence filled the cockpit. Hera could almost hear Kanan think. After a few minutes of strenuous contemplation, he picked up his weapon again and held it out in front of him. Catching Hera's eye, he deliberately twisted the end of his lightsaber, dismantling the hilt into two unequal, unassuming parts, and went on to clip them to his belt – one to the side like a mechanic's tool, the longer one at the small of his back where a glow rod, a spare power cell or other equipment might be stored.

Hera couldn't believe she had never noticed the unusual setup Kanan wore almost every day.

His face was deadly serious, and Hera knew he had just trusted her with his most prized secret, the only one he had got left. 

Honoring the measure of trust, she nodded once and held Kanan's gaze. “Neat,” she simply said. 

He smiled. 

**The End**


End file.
